


Befitting Enough

by onceuponamoon



Series: OT3 verse [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamoon/pseuds/onceuponamoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard’s mind runs in cycles. Seems that way, anyhow, because that’s the way his life has pretty much always been and more than likely always will be. He is nothing if not consistent. Or consistently changing. But, anyway, it always seems to lead back to Mikey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Befitting Enough

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am a lying liar that lies. This is purely a work of fiction. I do not, in any way, profit from this fictional creation or own any characters in this story. I own absolutely nothing.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [s0ckpupp3t](http://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t).  
> Feedback is much appreciated!

Gerard’s mind runs in cycles. Seems that way, anyhow, because that’s the way his life has pretty much always been and more than likely always will be. He is nothing if not consistent. Or consistently changing. But, anyway, it always seems to lead back to Mikey.

It always starts with an accident. Then there’s the sharing that often accompanies lies, or more so Gerard avoiding the truth until Mikey figures things out. Next would be boundaries—what Gerard wants versus what he can have—followed by exceptions to said boundaries, and lastly the epiphany.

Gerard has his life summarized into that fairly simple list, so he doesn’t have any valid reason as to why this last one surprises him.

*

The first time began the day his mother brought Mikey home, sat him in Gerard’s three-year-old arms and said, “Now, Gerard. This is your baby and I want you to take care of him.” It was clear and quick and he was only three—the accident being Gerard shifting to get comfortable which made Mikey nearly roll from his grip. She had snatched him away, said, “When you’re stronger and older, you can have him.”

So Gerard had sung Mikey to sleep in his little crib (and only being three, Gerard conveyed his sincerest, “sorry” the best he knew how with “Itsy Bitsy Spider”) and promised not to make him scared ever again. He’d wanted to hold his gift in his arms again, but he could be patient.

His patience lasted all of two days before he begged, tugging on his mother’s tacky polyester pants until she’d relented, and was allowed to hold Mikey again, as long as Donna was right there holding the both of them. And Gerard had said yes, okay, please and realized nothing made him as happy as holding Mikey in his arms.

*

“Coffee warms my soul.”

It’s raining and they’re on the ratty old couch watching horror movies—originals, then the remakes—because Gerard has been circling the drain lately and that’s all he wanted when Mikey’d asked. Mikey. Warmth.

“It is the best thing.” Gerard is recovering. He can’t handle metaphors or similes and wishes Mikey’s eyebrows would give him a break for his lack of creativity at the moment.

Mikey presses his icicle toes into Gerard’s thigh under the afghan they’re sharing. “It is,” he agrees.

This one started with the accident that took Elena away from them. And then he kept all of the agony and rage inside until Mikey took the bottle away from him too and said, “You don’t get to do this to yourself,” and found him a shrink that got him on the right dosage of antidepressants instead of the Xanax diet. Gerard realized he hadn’t been taking care of Mikey, that it was the other way around.

“You okay, Gee?” Mikey asks softly. He only does that when he knows Gerard’s feeling fragile. Like a fucking leaf in the fall, just trying to hold on until winter snaps it down and lets it flutter away. Mikey’s voice keeps it at bay just that much longer. It holds Gerard steady.

“Yeah, Mikes.”

Mikey wiggles his toes again and lets it go.

*

This one is way, _way_ more difficult. Probably because it involves Frank.

Mikey invites Gerard to a label party. He’s minding his own business when this handsome tattooed thing chats him up. And then, just like that, they’re making out in a secluded hallway and then exchanging hand-jobs in a fucking janitor’s closet. They swap phone numbers, smiles, and separate. Gerard feels sort of human again.

They text every night for weeks and the obnoxiousness of Frank’s texts help pull him out of his doom-and-gloom funk. Then Mikey invites him over to his new place and turns out that Frank is his fucking roommate and Gerard can tell just by the way that Mikey’s eyes flick over his glasses that he’s got a thing for him.

Gerard’ll be damned if he isn’t the guiltiest motherfucker on the planet right then. But he acts like it’s the first time they’ve met and Frank plays along and texts him all “wtf?” that night. Gerard practically yanks all his hair out trying to figure out what to do.

Because he really likes Frank.

And okay, call him sick, but he’s really not opposed to sharing. Gerard has never really felt compelled to follow societal norms or whatever the fuck in the first place.

“Mikey likes you,” he texts back.

He gets a “ _…_ ” in return, followed by, “ _I sort of like him too_ ” followed by Gerard’s heart shattering before Frank sends a third saying, “ _um, and you,_ ” that pieces it back together.

So Gerard thinks. And thinks. But he doesn’t drink and he doesn’t take more of the fucking Prozac than prescribed even if he sort of really wants to.

It’s another week before Gerard texts Frank. It’s simple: “Come over” and his address.

They talk. Or rather, Gerard rambles and Frank watches his mouth move, because Gerard honestly doesn’t even fucking know if he is saying anything worth listening to. But then it turns out Frank is actually paying attention to words, meanings, and the pieces of sentences Gerard’s mangling because he says, “Well, I’m okay with being friends. I don’t want to come between you two, except for the part where I want you both and I really do.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Gerard laughs and Frank leans in to kiss him. When they break apart, Gerard puts his fingers to Frank’s lips and says, “Not until we talk to Mikey.” Gerard is maybe a little selfish, but he isn’t cruel. And if Mikey wants it to stop, then it will.

They spend the rest of the evening babbling about the Awesomeness of Mikeyway and Gerard’s like for Frank grows about tenfold, shoots toward infinity. Because Mikey _is_ awesome.

The next morning, Gerard calls Mikey. Mikey doesn’t answer. Then Frank calls Gerard and when he answers, his voice is nothing more than a breathy panicked, “Hello?”

“ _I didn’t exactly mean to but I kissed him and then we were making out and then I might’ve said some things,_ ” comes Frank’s reply.

So there we have it. “Well fuck,” Gerard says. And Frank is silent. “Fuck,” Gerard repeats.

“ _Yeah, so you should come over now,_ ” Frank says. Gerard can’t read his tone over his own mental discordant cacophony.

When Gerard gets there, Mikey opens the door and punches Gerard square in the stomach. “Why didn’t you say anything, asshole?”

Gerard just gasps for a minute because he had no idea Mikey could even hit like that. “I’m sorry,” Gerard mutters, head down as Mikey steps aside.

Frank is sitting on the couch being eaten alive by guilt, squirming beneath both of their gazes. Gerard doesn’t blame him. He’s pretty pissed and so is Mikey. Obviously.

Mikey makes Frank fuck off and pushes Gerard to sit on the couch while he just stands there, all crossed arms and pointy hips and serious eyebrows, and Gerard is intimidated. He just says, “Explain.” A simple command, and it all comes spilling from Gerard’s lips like vomit. Only less disgusting.

Frank looks sheepish when he returns. Mikey just looks resigned. He says, “I never could tell you ‘no,’ Gerard.” And maybe that’s where it begins.

The first few months are an awkward dance where Gerard and Mikey pass Frank back and forth like the most beautiful girl at the ball, vying for his attention, his favoritism. Maybe it’s more like a custody arrangement between divorced parents. It pulls them all apart, pushes them uncomfortably closer, and, more than anything, proves to be too frustrating.

One night Gerard lets himself in to pick Frank up and finds Mikey sitting alone in their tiny kitchen, staring straight ahead with an empty coffee mug in front of him. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Gerard realizes he probably hasn’t, which makes him feel like shit. Gerard used to be the solution to that—fitting hard planes and soft dips together back when Mikey still lived with him and then half-lucid ramblings via airwaves back before Frank. Gerard wonders if Frank knows.

He doesn’t even open his mouth, but Mikey looks up, nods, and gets up to follow Gerard to the bedroom. They’re pressed together again, still hard angles offsetting Gerard’s softness, and Mikey finally sleeps to Gerard’s hand over his chest.

Gerard knows the intimacy of their position could be inappropriate, but it’s home and he doesn’t care. It makes him realize he’s been operating halfway and it makes him hate this whole arrangement. He wants both. He _needs_ both.

Frank opens the door, maybe to tell Mikey that Gerard’s late and does he want to make out before he gets here, Gerard’ll never actually know, but he _does_ know that Frank sees them wrapped up together in a tangle of Way. He knows it’s putting ideas in his head. Hell, it’s putting ideas in _Gerard’s_ head.

And why not? It’s probably more concerning that Gerard hears no warning bells, no sirens, just Mikey’s soft snores and Frank’s creepy shuffling behind him.

Gerard turns to look over his shoulder at Frank. Frank just stares back, big hazel eyes, biting his lip ring that’s glinting in the dull orangey streetlight filtering in through Mikey’s blinds. Mikey squeezes tighter around Gerard’s forearm in his sleep. Gerard watches Frank leave and then presses a kiss to Mikey’s hair.

The following morning isn’t as awkward as it could be. But it’s Saturday, Mikey’s day, and Gerard feels a bit like he’s intruding. “Stay,” Mikey orders. He already looks more human after those ten glorious off and on hours.

He sits next to Gerard, pressed close, shoulder to thigh, and leisurely sips his coffee. Frank is across from them and based on the blush across his nose, following the sparse freckles across his cheeks, Gerard would say he hasn’t taken care of his morning wood yet. Maybe he’s waiting. But he looks so good, all sleep disheveled with his hair rucked up and his eyes half-lidded. Gerard keeps his eyes on Frank’s as he wraps an arm around Mikey’s back and leans his head on Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey nuzzles closer.

They both hear Frank’s breath hitch before he mumbles disjointed words and hits his hip against his chair and makes a swift exit.

“He’s going to jerk off,” they say at the same time, then, “Jinx,” then “ _Jinx!_ ” again as they both collapse against each other laughing.

When it’s quiet again, Mikey says, “He wants a threesome.” Gerard feels the skin he’s leaning against go ablaze. Or maybe that’s his own face. He rights himself and Mikey is back to nonchalantly sipping his coffee.

Gerard jerks off three times in a row when he gets home. And it’s not to the thought of being pressed against the sharp points of Mikey or Frank’s hungry eyes before he excused himself. Nope. Not at all.

Then they start sharing Saturdays. And on Sundays, when Frank comes home with Gerard and he’s got him pressed against his drawing table, whispering dirty things in his ear—“Bet you’d like that, huh? You’d like to be in the middle, between us with all that skin. Fuck, he’s so smooth and pale, Gee. Just like you. Mikey’s—”—Gerard comes before Frank can even get his jeans unbuttoned.

Three weeks pass like that, still separate boyfriends, brothers. Then Gerard sleeps over on a Saturday, because Mikey’s not sleeping again. But when he wakes up, it’s to a warm, wet mouth surrounding his cock. Apparently it _wasn’t_ a dream and he really _does_ moan like that. He only has about five seconds to panic, because Mikey is _right there_ , two inches away, and _fuck_ , he’s awake. His eyes are open. And then Gerard is coming, harder than ever before, so hard his vision fuzzes black around the edges.

He has no idea whose name slipped through his gritted teeth, but he’s coming down and Frank’s still slurping around him, cleaning him up and somehow Gerard’s eyes are still locked with Mikey’s.

Mikey, who has a blush spreading down his neck and over the part of his bare chest that isn’t censored by the blanket. Mikey, who is breathing hard, too.

The Frank lump shifts and then Mikey’s eyes go out of focus, and _fuck_ he just looks so pretty with his mouth open like that, Gerard can’t help but to put his fingers to Mikey’s lips. And then Mikey sucks them in, hollowing his cheeks and closing his eyes. He groans around them and when Gerard rasps, “C’mon, Mikes,” Mikey’s eyes snap back open and he’s shaking, biting down on Gerard’s fingers.

He’s trembling with aftershocks and pulling Gerard close, pressing their lips together and then there’s tongues and teeth and about twenty odd years of missing out.

Then it’s suddenly cold, but they don’t care, they’re still desperate against one another, and something is finally right. There’s a splash of hot against their torsos and finally they pull away. Frank is kneeling above them, dripping, spent cock in hand, saying, “So, threesome?” with a shit-eating grin.

Mikey snorts and pulls Frank down on top of them. Strangely enough, that’s where Gerard realizes that nothing has changed—nothing makes him happier than holding Mikey in his arms.

Frank nuzzles in between them, muttering, “ _Ways…_ ” with the biggest grin as he pulls their arms over him.

Gerard smiles. _Oh, and Frank too._


End file.
